A Willow and a Qrow
by SpaceGrif
Summary: What if, at a key time in both of their lives, one burgeoning alcoholic met another? A young, impulsive Willow Schnee, future mother to Weiss Schnee, meets Qrow Branwen, Huntsman extraordinaire; that is, if you believe his tales, behavior, and ego. Join the two on an adventure of independence and impulse, to discover who they are...and what they want to be.


Willow Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Company, jewel in the eye of her parents and reportedly the most beautiful maiden in Mantle, was socially awkward.

Oh, sure, she was easily capable of getting dance partners, practically every eligible male (and several overtly old ones) asking her hand to dance, and it was easy to see why. She had practically the best blend of both her mother and father's attributes. She had her father's height, and was as lithe as her mother, and combined with her snow white hair and electric blue eyes, she was a striking figure in any crowd, and the name 'Willow' could not possibly be more apt. For this little gala, she wore her favorite dress, bright blue, laced with inert crystals of Blaze. Inert though they may be, they shone with hidden power, and cast faint glows of red.

But just because she was sought after didn't mean she had to _like_ it. She wanted no more than to fade into the background, sneaking out to go and rest in her room, or perhaps taking a walk around the forests in her family estate. But no: instead, she was here, dressed up like a freshly preened peacock, being shown off to every eligible male.

She was sure her father didn't mean it like that. But that was how Willow felt, and though it was unworthy of her, she resented it.

That was why, on that fateful moment in time, Willow Schnee was standing just to the side of the punch bar, attempting to not be noticed. And, for a while, she succeeded: most of the people in Mantle knew how to read body language, and despite the literal fire sewn into her dress, Willow gave off an aura of coldness.

She sipped her punch, glancing at the clock.

"Just another hour before midnight." she said. "I can make it. Just one more hour before..."

"Willow!" A loud, boisterous voice boomed from within' the crowd.

Willow sighed, turning to her right. The sea of dresses and tuxedos parted, and through it strode Nicholas Schnee. The massive man was built like a bear, and the brown beard flecked with white completed the image. He wore simple clothes, for the most part; a deep blue vest, straining over his barrel-sized chest, with a large, brown coat, concealing the rippling mass of muscle and sinew that made up his arms, with brown pants and hunter's boots to complete the image.

Across from him stood a a man far smaller, but projecting a similar aura of power. He wore mostly green, with a green vest, jacket, scarf with a silver cross, and pants. He carried in one hand a cane, and in the other, a coffee mug. His white hair proved a stark contrast to the glittering emerald eyes framed by bent spectacles. The man looked wizened, almost scholarly.

"Willow, my daughter," began Nicholas, draping one heavy forearm across his daughter's slim shoulders. "Might I introduce you to Ozpin of Vale."

"Charmed." Willow said, flatly. She extended her hand in a traditional handshake, but Ozpin simply looked her in the eyes.

"Interesting choice of words." he murmured.

He offered no other words after that, and Willow, unsure of what to do in such a situation, simply lowered her hand. "Sir?" she asked. "Come again?"

" 'Charmed' is an interesting word to use upon first meeting." he replied, eyes still boring into her own. "Do you mean to lay a spell upon me, Ms. Schnee?"

"Err..." Willow stammered. "Such a thing...would it not be rude?"

Ozpin simply smiled, finally looking away from her. "Indeed it would." he said. "Though you mustn't mind the musings of a lowly teacher such as me, Ms. Schnee."

It was then that Nicholas interjected. "Ozpin here is the headmaster to his own branch of academies." he explained, a glitter in his eyes. "Dedicated to fighting Grimm, carving a brighter future for humanity with their own hands and weapons. A marvelous thing, in my opinion. Training the next generation to fight so men like me can retire! Ha!"

Willow perked up at that. She had heard of Beacon: though relatively new, it was spoken of through all the world, along with it's counterparts.

"A brighter future for who, may I ask?" she asked, curious. "And who do these academies traditionally accept?"

Ozpin waved his hand. "Anybody, to both those questions." he said. "Those skilled or strong enough can apply. And, if they graduate, they may do as they wish. Carve their own path."

Willow wasn't sure, but she thought she saw Ozpin wink at that last remark. She stood, uncertain. Then, her father stepped forward, taking Ozpin by the shoulder.

"Come now, old friend." he said. "You and I have much to catch up on, and I doubt my daughter wishes to listen to two old men drone endlessly about the good old days." he joked.

The two men walked away, still talking, leaving Willow standing, alone, just off the edge of the dance floor.

 _Carving your own destiny..._ she thought. _Sounds amazing.  
_  
Even now, she could see herself, following in her father's footsteps. Yes: she would be strong and elegant, a dancer in battle. She would travel all the world, like her father, doing whatever she felt like. Waking early, walking among the forests she loved so...

 _But I can't leave here._ she realized, shaking her head. _Father would never allow it, as long as he had breath in his lungs.  
_  
Her shoulders slumped, and she turned around, only to be found nearly nose-to-nose with another person. She gasped in surprise and took a hurried step back. She overbalanced and tripped, and a hand shot out, grasping her wrist and hauling her forward.

"Little snowflake should be more careful." chuckled a low, deep voice.

She smoothed her dress and looked up, into a pair of light red, almost pink, eyes. Around these eyes was a young face, directly contrasted to the short, black hair flecked with grey. He wore a grey suit, framed with white around the edges.

She glared at him with her frosty blue eyes. "Maybe I wouldn't have tripped if a certain _somebody_ hadn't been standing rather uncomfortably close." she growled.

He clearly got the hint, but rather than taking it, he smirked. "A certain somebody sounds like a jerk." he said, stepping around her, so now that he talked over her shoulder.

"He is." Willow said. "And probably a lecherous ass, if current action is any indication." she said, striding away. He followed her, slightly behind. Again, he laughed.

"Or perhaps he is just testing the water, trying to get a rise from you." He indicated. "And he just wants to see what kind of person you are."

"For what purpose, I can't imagine." she said. "I am not interested in conversation."

The mysterious man sighed, linking his hands behind his head. "Or maybe you just don't want to be here, now?"

"Astute observation." she said dryly.

She returned to her place besides the punch table, and he joined her. He smiled.

"Name's Qrow Branwen." he said. "And you're Willow Schnee."

Willow sighed, leaning against the same pillar. "And I suppose you want to dance, too."

"Nah." Qrow said, waving his hand. "Dancing is Tai's job, and he and Raven are off somewhere else."

Willow frowned, thinking. _What else could he possibly want?  
_  
"So, what do you think of the old man?" Qrow asked suddenly.

"Who?"

"Ozpin, dummy." He replied.

Willow thought for a moment. She...  
"I don't know." she started. "I mean, he seems smart, and he's got to be powerful if he knows my dad personally...but some of the things he says don't make sense."

She heard a chuckle from to her left. "That's about right." Qrow said. "Sometimes even I don't know what he's thinking."

Willow didn't know what to make of that, honestly. On the one hand, Qrow seemed like he at least knew of Ozpin. On the other, why would somebody that young associate with somebody almost as old as her father?

She turned and looked at Qrow. "You never answered my question. Why are you here? What do you need?"

At this, Qrow shrugged. "I decided to come here with Ozpin, get out of Vale, see the world a bit." he said, winking at her in much the same way Ozpin had. "I'm pretty sure you can relate to that, right, snow princess?"

Willow frowned. "And how could you possibly know that?" she asked.

Qrow simply smirked, that insufferable smirk of his. "It's kinda my job to know people." he said. He stood up from the pillar, reaching into his coat, and drawing out a flask. He took a short swig from it, sighing contentedly.

"Tell you what." he said. "Meet me on the roof, after the party, and I'll show you the things you're missing."

"What am I missing, pray tell?" Willow asked skeptically.

Qrow nodded outside one of the tinted windows, where the shining white light of Remnant's moon illuminated the darkness.

"Out _there._ "

And just like that, he was gone, disappearing back into the crowd. He moved like a ghost, and Willow couldn't see where he went. She leaned back, thinking on his words. Something had seemed...off about him, though she couldn't place what it was. Few had ever spoken to her like that, and on a base level, it intrigued her. But his parting words stirred something in her: wanderlust, she supposed. She'd always wondered where her father would go. Perhaps, if that ass could show it to her, than putting up with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Arrogant would all be worth it.

She checked the time. The clock seemed to have passed ever so slightly faster, and now it seemed that the party was almost over...  
Willow finished cleaning herself up, wiping her face with a towel. The gala had ended several minutes ago, and Willow briefly retreated to her lavish quarters to clean up and change. She shrugged off her dress, in favor of a simple white t-shirt, blue jeans, and a ponytail.

She frowned at herself in the mirror, slipping back a loose lock of hair. She looked exactly like the prodigal daughter she was supposed to be, with perfectly parted hair, perfectly done makeup, perfect genes, and perfectly done clothes.  
She reached back, flipping back the strand of hair, allowing it to flow free.

 _A bit better._ She admitted. She still felt stuffy, but the lack of formal clothes and slightly mussed hair made her felt a bit less like a porcelain doll.

She turned and strode from the room, opening the heavy wooden door silently. The servants had since finished their duties and gone to sleep, leaving the long hallway leading to her and her parents room dark and silent, save for the soft light streaming from the windows.

She shut the door behind her, turning and tip-toeing past her parents' bedroom. She could hear her father's snoring even through the massive door that had been fitted for his frame, masking her footfalls through the hallway.  
She got to the spiral staircase that led to the upper floors, which she ascended. Her sneakers made a soft _click_ with each step, which echoed through much of the wide, spacious mansion. She tensed with each step, but thankfully, no servants rushed to find the heiress sneaking to the roof.

She reached the top, and a short trip down a hallway later, she found the steel door that lead to the outside. She pressed one hand against it, and pushed out. The door opened, and in rushed a torrent of frigid night air that made her skin prickle, like a dozen tiny needles in her skin.

She walked out, letting the door shut behind her.

The moon was low on the horizon now, the shattered face reflecting it's ethereal white light over the Mantle countryside. Far in the distance, the metropolis of Mantle itself glowed with a gold light, drowning out the nearest stars. Below, she could see the garden, and beyond that, the walls of the estate, the only indicator of their purpose being the red lights showing where the auto-turrets were.

"Nice view." a sudden voice said to her left, causing Willow to jump. She whirled to the side, to see Qrow standing their, atop the outcropping that shielded the entrance to the stairs leading into the house. He had foregone his suit, and instead wore a simple button-up shirt white with a bar of grey on the inside, with black cuffs rolled up his forearms, a black collar, and a long, flowing red cape hanging from his shoulders. Hanging from his throat was a silver cross, and on his hip was what looked like a large sword, sans half the length.

Willow took all this in, and looked at Qrow, frowning. "It is," she said, apprehensive. "But I still don't know why you invited me to come up here."

Qrow hopped down from his perch, landing lightly next to her. He walked to the edge, hands in his pockets. He was silent for a moment, and, for a moment, seemed to consider his words.

"Don't get me wrong," he said, turning back to Willow, his red eyes resting on her blue ones. "Ozpin's a smart guy. But he has his limits."  
He threw out one hand, gesturing to her.

"He expects people he never met before to know what he's talking about, and to get the hints he throws out. And, if people who never met him don't know it's going over their heads, they pretty much never get the message. And he's got so much stuff going on with him, that he can't track everything at once. So, he can't really focus too much on one thing."

Willow stopped, looking skeptically at Qrow. She put one hand on her hip, and her voice was dripping with doubt. "And what does that have to do with me?"

"I'm saying, little princess, that Oz was giving you a hint." Qrow responded, walking up to her. "He was trying to get you to understand what he was saying, without him directly saying it."

Willow frowned. Now that she thought about it, it made sense; she really hadn't imagined Ozpin winking at her: it had happened. And he had done it in a way that he didn't want her father to notice.  
But why?

Willow narrowed her eyes. "Why should I trust you?" she asked. "All I know about you is that you showed up at a party and might, _might,_ know Ozpin somehow. What assurances do I have that you're telling the truth?"

Qrow blinked a few times, and then shrugged his shoulders. "You don't really have any, honestly. Besides my word."

"So, nothing."

"Ouch." Qrow said. "That hurt." Despite that, Qrow smiled, sitting down calmly on the edge of the roof. Willow continued glaring at him. The more this went on, the more suspicious she got: she supposed that Qrow could be telling the complete and whole truth, but that would mean that Ozpin was suggesting she do something he believed her father would not be comfortable with.

As though he had read her thoughts, Qrow began again.

"Ozpin thinks everybody should make their own choices. So, I'm here to give you one."

"Which would be?"

"One," he began, leaning forward. "You could stay here. Be daddy's little girl for the rest of your life. Do as he asks. Probably get married off to some nobleman with business sense."

He held out the other hand, pointing towards the lights of Mantle. "Or two, you can go out there. See what it's really like for yourself. Carve your own path."

Willow's eyes widened. Did this man seriously suggest she just run away? From her home, and everything she knew?

Granted, the offer was tempting. Some of the things he said made sense, even. She did want to see the world, beyond her cars and living room window. But she could also imagine her father, worried, pacing in his study like he often did, only instead of a mine, or a worker accident, he'd be thinking of his own, precious daughter. She could imagine her mother, constantly fretting over where she was, asking everybody who would listen if they had seen her daughter.

She could never do something so inconsiderate, so _juvenile.  
_  
"I'm sorry, Qrow, but I cannot." Willow finally said, turning on her heel. "If Ozpin cannot direct his request to my parents, he cannot direct it to me."

Qrow was in front of her then, once again standing uncomfortably close. He smelled faintly of whisky, faintly overlapping the scent of roses.

"Wait." he said. He put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. "One more thing."

She turned back to him, grabbing his hand and wrenching it off her shoulder.

"We have nothing more to discuss."

"What about Aura?" Qrow said, flatly. "You haven't even had yours unlocked yet, have you?"

"I...no." Willow said defensively. "My father feels that I am too young, and don't need it yet."

Qrow smiled, spinning her easily around, until she was away from the door, standing between her and it. "No time like the present, daddy's girl." Qrow said. He stepped quickly towards her, away from the door.

Willow regained her balance, and glared at Qrow. "And what do you mean by that?"

Qrow raised both his hands, in a gesture of peace. "Let's make a deal." he said. "I unlock your Aura. In exchange, you and I take a walk. Just a little walk. Not far."

Willow stopped. She never understood why her father never unlocked her own Aura, despite his own being unlocked. It always made her feel unsure about what else he kept from her.

Slowly, as though she was still considering the consequences, Willow asked "Can you actually do that?"

Qrow nodded. "It's a bit theoretical, but I've seen it done. It's not common, but we can do it."

Willow weighed the consequences, running a hand through her hair. _Theoretical? Not exactly a vote of confidence._

 _On the other hand, maybe I can finally see what kind of things Dad does.  
_  
"Alright." Willow finally said. "Deal."

Qrow smiled, slowly. There was a mischevious glitter in his eyes. "Alright, Ice queen, let's do this."

Willow sighed as Qrow placed both his hands on her shoulders. "Must you continue with the nicknames? I have a name."

"I know." Qrow said cheerfully. "But this just makes it a bit more fun."

Willow opened her mouth, about to give him his own rather unflattering nickname, but suddenly, like she'd stuck her tongue into an electrical socket, she felt a jolt run, through her head, into her spine, and spreading into her limbs and farthest extremeties. Her skin prickled uncomfortably, and she felt like she had a fever, her body burning despite the frosty air.

She looked to Qrow, and saw, around him, a red and black halo. His skin practically glowed, his eyes taking on a red sheen.

The world fell away beneath her, and darkness overtook. When she awoke, she found herself on the ground, Qrow kneeling beside her. It had evidently been a short time since they began, since the moon now hung even closer to the horizon.

Oddly, though, she no longer felt cold. She was aware of it, of course, but she didn't actually feel like she was lying on frigid snow. More like she was in a well-air conditioned room.

Qrow, for his part, looked concerned, his hand on her forehead.

"Doin' alright? Or did I break something there?" He said, his voice tinted with a small amount of worry.

Willow slapped his hand away, rising on her own. "I'm fine." she groaned, rubbing her head. "Did it work?"

"Far as I can tell." Qrow said, looking her up and down. "Though there's only one way to really tell."  
"And that would be?"  
"Physical attacks." Qrow replied. "Your Aura should protect you from damage."

Willow seemed to consider this for a moment. "So, if I do something that could damage me, my Aura should stop it?"  
"Basically."

Willow gave Qrow her own smile. It was completely devoid of warmth or jest, and resembled the same snarl one would find on a wolf.  
"Good to know."

Willow's fist, driven by a desire to find out her own abilities, thundered up, with no concern for herself or the strain on her body. It impacted the startled Qrow on the jaw, causing his head to snap back. He stumbled back, grabbing his jaw. "Ah, _hell._ " he shouted, regaining his composure and glaring at her. "What was that for?!"

The Schnee heiress examined her knuckles, humming to herself.  
"No bruises, not even a scratch." she said, turning to him. "It looks like it worked."

"I was supposed to hit you!" Qrow growled.

"You would never hit a lady." she said sweetly in response.

"Touche." Qrow said.

There was silence between them for a moment, before Willow spoke. "A deal is a deal, then." she said, turning to Qrow. "What do you have in mind?"

Qrow strode to the edge of the building with her. "Well, you're property, Schnee." he said. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, we need to avoid the cameras." she said. "And after that, the turrets. And then, we need to get through the main gate. There's a servants' passage..."

"I have a better idea." Qrow said. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"Down." Qrow said. He wrapped his hand around Willow's waist, and leaped from the edge of the roof. Willow opened her mouth to scream, but found her mouth held shut by Qrow's hand.

The two of them soared through the air, propelled by the unnatural strength of Qrow's legs. The compound passed beneath them,a nd soon enough, they landed beyond the walls, at the edge of the grounds.

Qrow let her down, and she scrambled away. She slumped against one of the nearby trees, hand over her heart. Qrow looked at her, his amusement obvious in his eyes.

"Trouble keeping your dinner, Ice queen?" he chuckled.

Willow grimaced. "Don't." she heaved between panicked breaths. "Ever. Do that. Again."

The two of them walked through the forest for an hour, making small talk as they went. Which, she admitted, normally amounted to making quick jabs at each other. It was somewhat refreshing for her, however: with her parents' dawdling, and her status, very few people truly spoke to her as though she was a person anymore. Qrow, on the other hand, treated her differently. And, she had to admit, he was slightly smarter than he looked.

Suddenly, Qrow stopped. "We're here." he declared.

Willow edged around him, peering ahead. She gasped at what she saw: it was a small grove, green grass poking up through the snow. A frozen waterfall fell into a pool of ice, ringed with giant, glowing crystals of blue-white. The moon reflected off the ice and snow, turning the beautiful area into a glowing heaven.

"This is the kinda thing you're missing, staying cooped up in there with your parents." Qrow whispered.

Willow simply stared, taking in the sight. It was one of the most beautiful sights she ever saw.

"Are there other places like this?" she asked.

"Yes. though a bit different." Qrow replied.

Willow thought. "I still can't just run away." she said. "I just can't do that kind of thing."

"Of course you can't." Qrow said. "Ask them first. If they say no, then, if you want, I can help you go from there."

Willow looked to her left, to Qrow. All traces of jest had left him, and his eyes now stared at her with deathly seriousness.

She took a deep breath, calming herself down and ordering her thoughts.

"Okay."


End file.
